Truth in Desperation
by Absentia
Summary: She took a step back, turned to go, and Robin snatched the back of her tattered cloak, panic fluttering like a trapped bird in his ribcage. “Raven, don’t!”


**Truth in Desperation**

**Summary:** She took a step back, turned to go, and Robin snatched the back of her tattered cloak, panic fluttering like a trapped bird in his ribcage. "Raven, don't!"

**Rating:** K+

**AN:** Totally out of left field. This is an entirely self-contained oneshot. There will be nothing more. Partly inspired because I read chapter 7 of Em's Echoes, and saw the theme for the next one would be "I promise I'll come back…" It put a niggling in my head, and this was what it produced. Sorry if I'm treading on your toes, Em. +sheepish grin+

**Disclaimer:** The answer is "no."

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They had not been prepared for war.

It came early in the morning, ruining the quiet new sunlight and sending the waking bird chatter into a cacophony of shrieking avian voices, soon followed by the terrified cries lifted by human tongues.

The Titans were roused and, stunned, stood on the roof of a corporate building, staring at the fresh battlefield.

Unfamiliar assailants that might have been machination and might have been enormous, spiny, spindly creature tread the city's streets, carelessly damaging architecture, uprooting fire hydrants and sending great rushing founts of water into the air. Tall structures trembled and, for miles, glass shattered and rippled outwards as a low, painfully vibrating moan issued from the monstrous attackers.

Coming out of a horrified stupor, the Titans picked themselves up and shook their heads free of the throbbing echoes.

"This is really bad, Rob. We should call the JL. We can't handle something this huge without some serious backup." Cyborg raised his arm and paused with his other hand poised over a minute keypad, ready to enter a hailing frequency and engage communication with the Watchtower.

Robin nodded and opened his mouth give the okay. Below, the shrill, terrified screaming of a woman was silenced in a horrible strangle beneath a trundling invader. The heroes on the rooftop paled, and Robin's mouth clicked shut, opened again.

"No time. We have to act yesterday. Titans, _go_!"

And they did.

The creatures seemed impervious to all attack. The police's rocket launchers, like Cyborg's sonic canon, merely stirred their attention. Starfire's bolts, at least, seemed to annoy them, but she was only barely more effectual than Cyborg and the JCPD forces.

Beastboy could find no animal shape capable of so much as scratching the tough armor-hide of the invaders, and even as a tyrannosaurus, he was like a toddler weaving between the legs of soldiers.

Raven had more success than the others, forming sharp, short blasts of black energy blades that managed to produce shallow scores on the creatures' thin, spider-like legs.

Robin could not have felt more useless. His explosives, concussive grenades and birdarangs were as good as throwing popcorn kernels, and there was no individual, man-sized opponent to best with his bo staff. Hoping to at least halt the things' progress, he swung from the ledge of one building to another on his grappling hook, using the thick, powerful high-tension cord as a sort of tripwire. The invaders stepped through it as if he had tried to bar their path with dental floss.

The war waged on, and by mid-afternoon, it was clear the humans and their champions were losing. As the struggle advanced, it became more desperate, and when Cyborg was forced to take asylum in the fortified hospital to recharge and to watch over the unconscious and concussed Beastboy, a note of frenzy rose in the air.

Starfire, tiring and trying not to show it, doggedly harried the almost oblivious invaders with successively weaker starbolts. When she dropped a sudden twelve feet in altitude, she was forced by the two remaining Titans to join their friends, if only for a brief rest. If she had been able to maintain a stable elevation, she would have resisted, but as she could barely remain more than five feet above the ground, she reluctantly conceded.

Raven continued her bladed attack, firing them at various target areas, hoping some vulnerable joint or pale underside would yield a weakness to exploit, but with little success. It would take an army of Ravens to even hope to overwhelm this enemy.

A sharp cry pulled her from her contemplation of a strange crease along the side of one creature's main body. With rising alarm, Raven located the source of the voice.

Robin was crumpled on the cracked sidewalk, and a thin trail of glistening blood smeared down the concrete wall of the building that had caught him to disappear behind Robin's head. His right arm hung limp, at an unnatural angle, and his grappling hook was lying discarded near him on the ground, the cord snapped like a thread between the Fates' scissors.

"Robin!" A twist of fear skirled through Raven's chest, and she knelt hastily in front of her downed leader, cupping his jaw in her hand in order to peer into his face. Her other hand slipped behind his head, fingers sliding and probing through the hair at his crown and gratefully locating only a break in the scalp.

"Ow," Robin winced, sucking in a breath sharply as Raven fingered the wound. His left hand lifted and flapped weakly. "Stop that."

Raven breathed in relief when Robin's eyes opened behind his mask, and his face pinched in awareness. "You've got a scalp wound. It isn't terribly serious, but it's possible you may have a concussion. Also, your right arm is at least dislocated, possibly broken."

Robin's features tightened further as he realized what she was saying. "I'm not finished yet, Raven. Don't—"

But his protestation was futile, and she interrupted him by enveloping them in shadows. The next light he saw was slanting at a slightly different angle, and as Raven helped him to stand, he recognized the emergency room doors behind which the rest of his team was recuperating. His jaw clenched and he snatched swiftly at Raven's wrist with his left hand, his eyes locking fiercely on her careful expression. "Raven, no. You're not going out there alone. I'm not letting you."

Raven did not try to remove her arm from his grasp, but glanced over her shoulder at the city and spoke as if he hadn't opened his mouth at all. "Have a doctor see to your arm and get a bandage on your head wound to stop the bleeding. As soon as Cyborg is recharged enough, contact the Justice League. With luck, they'll get here while there's still something to save."

His fingers tightened on her wrist, and a mixture of fear and anger flickered across his face. "Raven, I said you're _not_ going back out there without me, do you understand?" She looked at him with no change in expression, and a note of desperation made him bite out harshly, "That's an order."

A strange, small smile flitted over her mouth, and she easily pulled her wrist from him. "As your second in command, Robin, I'm afraid I'm going to have to respectfully decline."

She took a step back, turned to go, and Robin snatched the back of her tattered cloak, panic fluttering like a trapped bird in his ribcage. "Raven, don't!"

She turned, faintly surprised at his vehemence, and looked at him. Their eyes communicated volumes, and after a long moment punctuated by a distant explosion, she sighed. "I don't intend to die out there, Robin. I'll come back."

Despite her words, this moment felt perilous, and though he couldn't explain it, Robin felt with terrible certainty that if he let Raven go out there, he would never see her again. And with all the things they had never said, never framed in words and actions to each other, he didn't think he could bear to allow that. "How can I believe you?"

Raven's mouth flattened into a line, and he realized his doubt annoyed her. Making a sound of frustration, she took two steps closer to him, grasped both sides of his head in her hands, and tugged his face down to hers.

His heart stopping in that moment where her lips pressed fiercely against his and he could taste the future, Robin watched her with his throat constricted as she sailed away into the dust clouds, and prayed with more fervor than he'd ever put into anything that that kiss would only be the first.

Not the last.

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**AN:** That's all there is; there isn't any more. I've been doing bunches of little random oneshot things lately, haven't I? No fear, faithful readers (all what, maybe three of you? I love you, though .), this is only a small sidetrack. The other projects are still my main concern.

PS: You're probably guessing it, and you're right; I pulled this pathetic title right outta my arse. Sorry. Short notice and whatnot.


End file.
